


A List of Effable Requests

by MostWeakHamlets



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Communication as foreplay, Demisexual Aziraphale, Food Sex, Frottage, Kink Negotiation, Loss of Virginity, M/M, South Downs Cottage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:20:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26054104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MostWeakHamlets/pseuds/MostWeakHamlets
Summary: Aziraphale presents Crowley with a list of all of the kinks he's thought about. They handle it methodically and scientifically.Meanwhile, they create their own Eden in the South Downs.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 82





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first attempt at a truly explicit fic. It's totally different from what I usually do, but I wanted to give it a try!
> 
> I really want this fic to be largely about communication during sex and setting/respecting boundaries but also fun. I think you'll really like this fic if you're like me and find communication a genuinely interesting and important part of E-rated fics. It'll also, I believe, allow a lot of room for sweet moments between Aziraphale and Crowley!
> 
> I will be tagging kinks as I write about them. I don't want to create a wall of tags and then have absolutely nothing yet haha. The chapters will also be titled with the kink/activity just in case there's something specific anyone finds to be troubling or triggering.

There were infinite perks to living in West Sussex—perhaps due to a certain angel and demon simply believing that there were and therefore shaping the entire county into being the most perfectly pleasant retirement destination. There were lunches in the park, hikes along the cliffs, beautiful gardens planted, and friendly neighbors that were seen not too often but not too little so as to make them strangers. It was never too hot but almost always sunny except on days when there was an urge to laze around the house. Then, there was a light drizzle and an occasional clap of thunder. Very nearly every day was very nearly perfect.

Aziraphale tucked the remains of lunch into their picnic basket as Crowley stretched out on the blanket with a content sigh. Aziraphale knew that the dear loved to bask when there wasn’t a cloud in sight—an endearing little quirk of his snake nature. As was their habit, he would most likely doze off while Aziraphale tucked into a nice book and watched the people around them play. 

Crowley would lay there, arms tucked under his head at the start, long body spread out over a large space. It would be so tempting to catch little glimpses of him. To admire his legs in their obscenely tight trousers, his lips parting with sleep, his hand eventually moving to rest on his lower stomach and right above his crotch. 

It was easy to lose minutes watching Crowley like that anymore. 

Now, no matter how hard Aziraphale tried, he couldn’t find any interest in his book. He couldn’t make it half a page in before looking up at where Crowley lay. His mind barely paid attention to the characters he was trying to get acquainted with and wandered to imagining what would happen if he laid with Crowley. If there were no one around. If he could rest his own hand where Crowely’s was—at the sweet spot that wasn’t naughty but not completely innocent, either. If he could maybe lay his hand a bit lower and lean in to kiss Crowley’s jaw. 

But nothing like that had ever happened before. Their relationship since diverting the apocalypse had been limited to short pecks and holding hands and curling around one another at night. And Aziraphale wasn’t unhappy with it by any means. He hadn't even felt any “urges” until they had fully settled into their cottage, and Crowley didn’t seem too bothered by their situation. 

It did feel as if they had massive unexplored territory, though, and Aziraphale was beginning to have dreams about it when he slept and much more recently began thinking about it during the day.

“Dear?” 

“Mmm.”

“Dear, I have a question for you.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Do you ever think we should be doing something more?” 

“What do you mean?” 

Despite his recent “urges,” Aziraphale didn’t know how to directly address the topic. But it didn’t deter him, and he pushed forward with his curiosity. He owed it to Crowley to be open about his feelings. It would be unfair to both of them to push it off any longer. 

It wasn’t discussed in Heaven—it wasn’t as though there were celestial sex education courses Azirpahale could have been taking. One day soon after Adam and Eve left Eden, he was sent a memo that gave the basic rundown of: “A human that possesses _this_ organ can insert it into a person that possesses _this_ organ, and another person can result from it.” It left Aziraphale with a list of burning questions that only grew as the years went on as the humans explored the acts they could do. 

When he first heard of humans with the same assigned organs participating in the acts, he had gone straight to Gabriel to ask if the humans had figured something out. A cheat of some sort for reproduction. A way to maximize their population growth. Gabriel had said no. Humans had found that they enjoyed the acts and humans had preferences to what humans they enjoyed. 

The general enjoyment was to be discouraged, Aziraphale was told, sometime during the Common Era. No matter who anyone preferred, they really didn’t want humans going about and misusing their bodies. 

Aziraphale had never given himself any organs, and he hardly developed partnerships with anyone that inspired any strong feelings. The concept of enjoyment was foreign, so he followed orders and spent his time telling couples that sex was something sacred. Something not to be done without purpose or commitment. Initially, he was instructed to warn about the deadly sin of lust, but he found himself unable to scare humans and instead strictly told young people about the consequences that could come with their acts. Children were hard to raise and apparently new diseases were quickly developing and spreading only by genitals.

And though policies changed and attitudes became relaxed in Heaven, Aziraphale still felt as though sex was something one had to be careful with. There were many things to consider as a science experiment needed data points and control groups and as novels needed acts and character arcs. If something was missing, it could end terribly (with an aforementioned child or disease) or, at the very least, be unsatisfying. 

“I mean with… you know.” 

“I don’t, angel.” 

“You do know that I enjoy it when we kiss.” 

“Yeah.” 

Aziraphale had read about sex, looked at art about sex, and even watched a few videos on the Internet that gave his computer a virus. He had placed himself in every role and Crowley was always with him. 

He wanted to approach it, examine it, give it the good old college try, and reflect on it. Perhaps do it over and over. Maybe abandon it completely. He wanted to understand what was wrong about it for so many people and what was addicting to others. There were things he had heard a person could do—things he would never expect to be so titillating. And he would be lying if he said he didn’t want to perform each and everyone one. 

“Do you ever wish we ever did more than just kiss?” 

Crowley sat up on one elbow. His face broke out into an obnoxious grin. Surely he had experience. Crowley participated in most of the deadly sins. Aziraphale had known him to sleep for years (sloth), accumulate the newest technology every six months (greed), dine at expensive restaurants as a grotesque display of surplus wealth (gluttony (and Aziraphale turned his eye to the hypocrisy)), and have tantrums (on a minor scale, wrath). Lust had to have been conquered at some point. 

“Are you propositioning me, angel?” 

Aziraphale lifted his chin and held his shoulders back. “I’m only asking a question.” 

“This is quite the picnic conversation I have to say.” 

“If you don’t want to discuss it then we don’t have to.” 

“No!” Crowley scrambled to sit up, long limbs flailing as he pulled himself up and moved closer to Aziraphale. “Let’s talk about sex.” 

A group of young children ran by, laughing and yelling in joy. Aziraphale cringed. 

“Maybe not here,” he said. “It might be more appropriate to do this somewhere more private.” 

“Alright with me.” 

They could go back to their beautiful cottage on their little patch of secluded land, walk up their gravel path, through their garden and creaky wooden gate, and settle in for the evening with their dirty conversation. Perhaps with a glass of wine and fresh strawberries from their bushes. And a little cream. Maybe a peach as well if their trees were doing well.

The treat was just as appealing as the discussion, Azizraphale thought, as they gathered their basket and blanket and began towards home. 

* * *

Crowley pulled his legs to his chest and fell into his corner, against the arm of the sofa in a very tight ball. He threw his glasses to the side and wiggled for a moment to get comfortable. 

“So, why do you want to have sex all of a sudden?” he asked. 

Aziraphale sat with his hands folded in his lap. “I’m curious about it all.” 

Crowley was quiet for a moment and then, in a low voice, asked, “You don’t want to talk about it just because you think I want to, do you?” 

“No! I am genuinely curious about it for my own, personal reasons.” 

“Alright.” 

“It’s something humans do that I’ve always wondered about, and I think I’m ready to give it a try. If you’re willing to try it with me, of course.” 

Crowley smiled. It wasn’t ornery. It was soft. He could be quite sweet when Aziraphale caught him in the right moments.

“Of course I’d want to try it with you, angel. How do you want to go about it?” 

“That’s the thing, isn’t it? We have options. There’s an infinite combination of ways he could go about this.” 

“Uhh… sure” 

“It might involve some shopping and visiting speciality stores.” 

“Angel, hold on.” Crowley repositioned himself, slightly less comfortable and stiffer. “Are you talking about kinky stuff? Like leather and bondage?” 

“If you’d like to try that specifically, yes.” 

It did seem like a demon’s work. Knowing what made people tick in all sorts of ways. If Crowley could create his wily plans knowing exactly what simple inconveniences could cause a domino effect of ill-will amongst humans, then Aziraphale had no reason to doubt that he knew what boxes needed to be checked to make humans fall to lust. 

But Crowley looked sheepish, and Aziraphale’s confidence grew. 

“Have you ever tried it before?” 

“Bondage?” 

“Sex.”

Crowley held his head down and mumbled, “Never really wanted to do it with anyone but you.” 

Aziraphale’s heart was full. How long had Crowley been waiting? 

“Not that I’ve obsessed over it or anything,” Crowley said. “Just thought that if I were to ever try it, I wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else.” 

“I’m flattered, my dear.” 

“I’m okay with anything you want to try. But I think we need an actual conversation about it before we get into those, er, details.” 

“Alright.” 

“We both want to try sex. We’re on the same page. And you’re not just saying this because you think it’s something _I’m_ expecting?”

“Truthfully, I’m curious.” 

“I’m just making sure, angel. This just doesn’t seem like you.” 

Aziraphale furrowed his brow. “Because I’m an angel? And angels aren’t supposed to have impure thoughts? I’ll have you know I’ve been curious for quite some time now and have even done research. I’ve just never had the opportunity to fully explore it _myself_ before.” 

Crowley smiled. “Okay. You understand what it’s all about, then? How all the things work?” 

“I know a fair bit. I’ve approached it from a scientific angle.” 

“That’s great.”

“Thank you.” 

“Can you teach me, then?” 

“I doubt Hell hasn’t been on top of their homework for the cardinal sins. You probably know more than I do.” 

“You’d be surprised by how un-sexy Hell is. They didn’t care if someone liked getting tied up every Sunday. I only know what I’ve seen in films.”

“Adult films?” 

“No, Bond.” 

Aziraphale had seen Bond as well. While the was a general air of sex to the films, they were nowhere near as explicit as they needed to be for proper exposure. 

Aziraphale looked to the coffee table. A pad of paper and a pen set out with that morning’s grocery list still on it. He ripped the list off and laid it safely aside for future use. At the top of the clean sheet, he made two columns and began listing numbers below them. 

“Let’s think about what we know and don’t know.” 

Through the rest of the evening, Crowley asked questions about the specifics of sex. He asked how they were supposed to know if it was going right, where certain entrances were, how to be safe not in the sense of using protection but in the sense of not physically hurting one another and knowing when it was time to stop. Aziraphale had answered the best that he could and when he was stumped, wrote the question in their “To Research” column. 

With all tension gone by that point, they pulled out Crowley’s phone and typed their questions into Google, bringing up results of all kinds. They watched clips from helpful documentaries and Aziraphale read out loud articles from professionals. They weighed their options and agreed on a safe word (a cheeky “apple”) and prepared dinner while listening to a podcast series on sexual fantasies. 

Finally, the night ended with empty plates that once held homegrown zucchini and handmade pasta, empty wine glasses, bowls of strawberry tops, and a full sheet of paper of questions and answers. 

“I’m tired, angel.” Crowley stretched his arms and legs so that he resembled an overgrown starfish. “I’d love to put all of this into action, but I think I need a nap first.” 

Practicing his new skills, Aziraphale noted the boundary Crowley had just set and nodded. All parties had to be willing and enthusiastic throughout the entire act. And of course, Aziraphale didn’t need to be taught that. They had respected boundaries in every area of their lives. He never forced Crowley into dinners or walks or silly adventures around England. 

With their jobs having stripped most of their autonomy away, Aziraphale thought it would be rather unfair to further take away Crowley’s options. 

“Go on to bed, my dear. I’ll clean up.” 

“You can just miracle it all away.” Crowley rose to his feet and gestured to what had been their dinner. “You don’t need to go to the trouble.”

“I like going to the trouble.” 

Crowley kissed the top of Aziraphale’s head, and Aziraphale tilted his head up to smile. 

He began gathering the dishes once Crowley was down the hall and had full intentions of putting them in the dishwasher by hand. But then he noticed that the television was still on, a screensaver of sorts now asking if they would like to continue watching their show. He made a mental note to turn it off before he followed Crowley to bed, and then remembered that they hadn’t finished their documentary on sex therapists that was quite interesting. They had paused the program while searching the internet for a book about delayed sexual maturity referenced by a doctor in a talking head segment. 

The dishes were re-homed in the dishwasher as Aziraphale sat back down. He clicked a few buttons on the remote, hoping they were the right ones. The documentary picked up where they had left off, with an old white man discussing the stigma around adult virgins. 

Aziraphale finished the film and the television had another one immediately lined up for him. He thought that was very kind and sat through it. And then another. And another. 

* * *

When the sun rose and peeked through the curtains, Crowley rubbed his eyes and sat up. He pouted at Aziraphale and scrubbed at the dry drool on his cheek. His hair stuck up in nearly every direction and was flattened down against the right side of his head. 

He was a messy sleeper, and Aziraphale adored it. Everything from the quiet snores to the tangled sheets was endearing. 

“Good morning, my dear.” Aziraphale leaned over to kiss Crowley’s forehead. “How did you sleep?” 

Crowley grunted and flopped back down onto his pillow. Not yet ready for words it seemed. 

Aziraphale had the pad of paper from the night before and multiple pens in his lap. The list they had made together had been flipped over and a new list, much neater and better-organized, was in the front. 

“I hope you don’t mind, but I continued watching a few programs after you went to bed,” Aziraphale said. “And I found some _very_ interesting information.”

“Like what?” Crowley’s voice was slightly muffled by his pillow. 

“Just some things I thought are worth trying. If you’re comfortable with trying them with me, that is.” 

Crowley propped himself up and squinted at the list. He made out the first few items before pulling the pad out of Azirpahale’s hands and hunching over it. 

“Angel, I don’t even know what half of these are, and I can’t even imagine how the other half are executed. What’s this one? _Kinbaku.”_

“Oh, it’s delightful for aesthetic reasons. I’m sure you’ll appreciate it even if you don’t find it arousing. It’s a style of bondage from Japan, and it’s made it into the art scene there. Let me make you breakfast and coffee, and I can explain everything to you when you’re a little more awake.” 

Aziraphale threw the sheets off of him and practically bounced down the hall while Crowley trudged behind him, surely motivated by the promise of food and caffeine and an explanation of what the Hell the angel had planned for him. 

“I just wrote down anything that I saw. We can always add to it if we find more. The acts I wrote in blue are what I’m not interested in and would really rather not try. The acts in black are what I thought I’d enjoy. The acts in purple are what I don’t have a strict opinion on. I thought that when you’d like to, you could label them the same, and we can disqualify as many as we’d like and investigate what’s left. Anything that either of us mark as black can be off the table, and the others can be negotiated as needed.” 

Aziraphale explained it all while popping bread into the toaster and pulling eggs out of their carton. Crowley sat at their kitchen table, still squinting at the list. 

“Handcuffs,” he read, “cross-dressing, asphyxiation—hard pass on that one, angel.” 

“I thought as much. Cross it out.” 

“Masochism, sadism, voyeurism, roleplay, rimming, vibrators, chastity devices, frottage, oral stimulation, fisting—I know about this one, but I’m making it purple. Gags, handjobs, food. How do we work food into sex?” 

Aziraphale poured the scrambled eggs onto their plates and lined it with toast. Two bowls of fruit, fresh from their garden, and two cups of coffee appeared on the table as soon as he placed their plates down. 

“It’s typically someone putting a food item on themselves.” Aziraphale cleared his throat and stared at his breakfast. _That_ one had sparked an interesting feeling in his stomach. “And the other person eats it off of them.” 

“Oh.” Crowley looked at his plate as well. “Yeah, I think I’ll mark that one as black, too.” 

“Splendid.” 

Aziraphale took the first bite of his egg. They were seasoned just right and were light and fluffy. His toast was crispy and warm, and the jam was sweet. For a brief moment, he thought about licking the jam off of Crowley’s chest but quickly suppressed the thought and took a gulp of coffee. 

Crowley was genuinely invested in the list. He grabbed the appropriate pens and scribbled next to each item, skipping every few acts for lack of understanding. 

“Your breakfast is going to get cold,” Aziraphale said as he moved on to his fruit. 

Crowley shoved an unseemly amount of egg into his mouth and grabbed the purple pen. He scribbled next to oral stimulation and then paused, tilting his head. 

“Would this be like a blowjob?” he asked. 

“That was my understanding.” 

Crowley threw down his purple pen and grabbed the black. “I’ve heard about those! I want to see what the hype is about.” 

Aziraphale sat back in his chair with coffee as Crowley continued marking up the paper and shoving food into his mouth. He was relieved to see Crowley so invested in the list. Any bit of anxiety about rejection from Crowley was gone. He felt warm and safe in their little cottage, in their new life. 

“Done,” Crowley announced. “What I could do, anyway.” 

Jam stuck to the corners of his lips. His pupils were slightly rounded out either from the meal he had just finished or because of the topic he had pressed his nose into. Aziraphale smiled. 

“What do you say to a shower and then more talk?” 

Crowley leaned back and smirked. He looked decidedly unsexy with his breakfast on his face and bedhead. “Got any ideas for what we could do in there?”

“That seems far too dangerous. We should stay on a slip-free surface.” 

“Angel, you said you were okay with choking me on this list!”

“I never specified anywhere on that list that you were going to be the one _receiving_ the acts every time. I thought that could be negotiated.”

Crowley blinked. Aziraphale waved his hand, and the dishes were clean and in their homes in the cabinets. He stood and began walking out of the kitchen, turning around to look to Crowley who was still staring. 

“Are you coming?”

“I just…” Crowley grabbed the black pen. “I need to make a few changes. I’ll be there soon. Start without me.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed this, please let me know! This is going to be the only truly mild chapter. The chapters following will be about specific kink negotiations and executing the actual acts.
> 
> Check me out on Tumblr, too! I'm also mostweakhamlets over there!


	2. Food Play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two! Here are a few things you should know: 
> 
> \- This is the food play chapter! That part is not intense; just a bit of eating food off a body
> 
> \- The part that may be a bit intense is the actual sex. This chapter is explicit! It will be the most explicit chapter in this fic as it's the special first time. Following chapters may not be so detailed. 
> 
> \- There is briefly a healthy discussion about sex being painful. I do promise you it's healthy and no one is actually hurt. It's just a "we're new and didn't know to prep" deal. 
> 
> \- The actual sex doesn't start until after the line break. Before then, it's just them going about their daily business.
> 
> The song mentioned in the beginning (Debussy’s “ Rêverie”) was suggested to me by Jack aka gentyjack (please check out their work, it's absolutely lovely) who knows way more about music than I do. They're an absolute gem!

The macaroons were delivered on Sunday morning, wrapped in thin, red paper with a white ribbon tied around the middle. 

Aziraphale tipped the woman at the door generously and told her that, yes, they were a gift. For his husband. Details weren’t needed, but he did mention that it was a special date. 

Said husband was still sound asleep, which Aziraphale didn’t terribly mind. It gave him time to prepare. When he rose that morning and set his book aside, Aziraphale had tucked Crowley back in (the bedding had a tendency to be kicked off in the night) and left a perpetually-hot cup of coffee on the nightstand. A warm breakfast would be waiting on the table when he decided to finally roll out of bed. A vase of new flowers plucked straight from the garden would be right behind it. 

While every day was heavily romanticized in their cottage, Aziraphale took extra steps that morning to make the day a little extra special. The windows were open, letting in a light breeze before the day got too hot. Soft music—Debussy’s “ Rêverie” began as Crowley finally found his way to the kitchen—played from an old, crackly radio on the windowsill. Fresh bread had just been pulled from the oven and filled the house with its warm, yeasty aroma. 

“I was thinking we could spend the morning in the garden,” Aziraphale said, pouring Crowley another cup of coffee. “We could tend to our vegetables and maybe have lunch out there once we’ve worked up an appetite.” 

He didn’t mention the macaroons. They were tucked safely in the fridge next to an aerosol can of whipped topping and would come out after supper. They had divided the work. Aziraphale promised to get a special, secret treat if Crowley picked out something they saw in a film.

They ate breakfast in silence, both finishing quickly with little conversation as if they could speedrun through the day and reach their evening sooner. The dishes were cleared, and they changed in gardening-appropriate clothes. Crowley wore a dark pair of overalls with a red crop top underneath, showing just enough skin to be tempting but still practical enough to play in their garden. Aziraphale let his hand rest on an exposed triangle of skin when he walked past in his own gardening clothes (which were not too different from his everyday wear but lighter and without a waistcoat). 

They spent their late morning picking fruit and vegetables and berries, dumping all of them into baskets to be washed later. While Crowley climbed into their trees to pick their high apples and peaches, Aziraphale thought about all the lovely things they could make from their harvest and what they could freeze to make sure they had lovely jams and pies in the winter. They watered their flowers and beds and plucked out weeds. Crowley hissed at jalapeño plants that had small crops and Aziraphale cooed at the tomatoes for coming in so plump and red. 

At lunchtime, Aziraphale returned inside to wash up and make lunch. He prepared small sandwiches and tea and plenty of fresh fruit and a little bit of cake. Crowley napped in a sunny patch in the grass until Aziraphale woke him with the tray of food and light touches to his cheek. 

There was a hidden nook in their garden where they had placed a small patio table and two chairs. It was tucked under trees in a cool bit of shade, in the middle of a patch of wildflowers and the occasional troop of toadstools. They ate their lunch there, happily nibbling on their lunches and spotting birds. 

* * *

They ate supper inside as the sun began to cozy up to the horizon. They took bites between smiles and little glances and bit back giddy laughter. Wine was sipped and food was complimented and there were little wiggles until they had washed their dishes and packed up leftovers. 

“Are we ready?” Aziraphale asked once everything was clean. 

Crowley nodded, the most charming, wide smile on his face. Aziraphale thought that he was too cute for words. Ineffably cute, he joked to himself. 

“Let me gather everything together,” he said. “And you can get comfortable in bed.”

Aziraphale could feel the shift in mood in the cottage as the evening had progressed. There was an overwhelming amount of love filling every nook and cranny, spilling out to flood the entire home. He felt bad for Crowley not knowing how much their combined feelings could affect their surroundings. But then he also thought about the high Crowley got from watching horror movies in theaters and passing by haunted houses in autumn, and he did enjoy seeing Crowley in such giddy moods when he knew people were being (harmlessly) scared shitless.

He gathered the whipped cream and macaroon box from the back of the fridge and grabbed a fresh hand towel from the linen closet just to be safe. 

Upstairs, Crowley was stripped down to his briefs, showcasing his equally flat ass and front. He sat on his knees as Aziraphale laid out their treats.

“Should I undress?” Aziraphale asked. 

Crowley shrugged. “I think you might want to. Clothes might get in the way.” 

Aziraphale began pulling off his waistcoat and shirt. He paused once he got to his underclothes and socks.

“Is this alright?” 

“Whatever you’re comfortable with, angel.” 

Aziraphale decided that he was quite comfortable. It was a bit, dare he think, sexy to be down to such little clothing. Despite having been first given loose robes while on Earth, he liked the way that his suits fitted against his body. He always felt snug and safe under his layers. And now, he was so close to being totally naked. He could see how it teased Crowley, as well, his slitted pupils rounding out as if he had prey in front of him (that is if Crowley actually hunted prey rather than have perfectly grilled steaks and dainty caesar salads presented to him). 

“Now, how do we begin?” Aziraphale said.

Crowley stared at Aziraphale for a moment before turning to the food. He opened the box of macaroons. “We should probably decide who’s going to be eaten off of.” 

“Do you think it’ll be sticky?” 

Crowley sprayed a line of whipped cream on his index finger and shoved it in his mouth, slowly pulling it out. Aziraphale bit his lip. 

“Yup.” 

“It best be you, then,” Aziraphale said. Feeling the residue of the sugar all over his body—along with the crumbs—would definitely put him out of the mood. “You don’t mind being messy.” 

“I enjoy it.” Crowley laid on his back with the whipped cream. “Have your way with me, angel.” 

Aziraphale crawled onto the bed and sat by Crowley’s knees. Crowley squirted a dollop of whipped topping into his mouth. 

“You’re going to waste it all,” Aziraphale said, taking it away. 

He didn’t know where to start. Really, he knew there was no right or wrong way to begin, but he really wished that there were. He wished that there were a guide to tell him what to do. He could lay a macaroon on Crowley’s stomach and trace whipped cream up his chest. Or he could try to balance a macaroon on Crowley’s collarbones. Maybe he could feed Crowley as they went along, squirting whipped cream into his mouth. 

Aziraphale wrung his hands together as he thought. He didn’t want to disappoint Crowley. They had waited all day for this, and he would surely ruin it with a misplaced treat. 

“Angel.” Crowley sat up and took Aziraphale’s hands. “If you don’t want to do this, we don’t have to.” 

“No! I do,” Aziraphale said. “I really do. I just don’t know where to begin, and I don’t want to do anything wrong.” 

“I don’t think you can do this wrong. And if you did, I don’t think I’d notice. It’s not like I’m an expert.” 

Aziraphale nodded. He was right. Neither of them had anything to compare this to. 

“Don’t overthink it, angel. If we’re not happy,” Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s neck, “we’ll just have to try again.” 

“Oh, goodness gracious.” 

What an embarrassingly dorky thing to say.

Crowley kissed Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale’s face and neck burned. How quickly his mood could change when Crowley’s hands were roaming his back and lips moving from his mouth to his neck. 

“Let’s go over everything again,” Crowley said before nipping at Aziraphale’s collar. 

“Alright.” 

“Our safe word is ‘apple,’ yeah?” 

A bite.

“Yes.” 

“And we’re okay with whipping up some parts for us?” 

A bite. 

“Yes.” 

“And then we’re going to see where it all takes us, right?” 

“Yes, Crowley.” 

A bite. 

Aziraphale threw his head back and moaned. His fingers dug into Crowley’s bony shoulders. He briefly hoped that his nails wouldn’t scratch him too hard, but then thought that maybe Crowley wouldn’t mind. Or maybe Crowley would enjoy it as he enjoyed leaving bruises all over Aziraphale’s neck. 

“How do you feel about me leaving marks behind?” he asked, dragging his nails lightly down Crowley’s shoulder blades. 

“Please do. God knows I’ve already left some on you.” 

Aziraphale pulled away. His neck was sore. A bruise would definitely appear within the hour, and it made his heart race. He wanted to know what it felt like elsewhere—in parts that didn’t exist yet. 

“How about we…” he gestured down. 

“If you’re ready.” 

It happened in the blink of an eye and felt like a sneeze. A good, proper one that took a few seconds to recover from. 

And then there were bulges against their underwear. Crowley palmed his own and laid back. 

“Fuck, angel.” 

Along with their _exterior_ bits, they had miracled up their interior details as well, nice and clean, and ready for whatever activities that would follow. 

Aziraphale straddled him. He laid a macaroon at the bottom of Crowley’s stomach and drew a line in whipped topping up his chest. On his Adam’s apple, he laid another macaroon and then placed one between Crowley’s lips. 

He started at the bottom. He positioned himself on all fours and bent down to take the snack in his mouth. The macaroons were the perfect size. They were a bit smaller than they traditionally would have been, allowing Azirpahale to work his way through it quickly—which did pain him just a little as he enjoyed savoring food. 

They tasted heavenly. The biscuits were soft but had a crispy outer-layer. The buttercream filling was smooth and sweet but not too rich. The entire thing was strongly-built and stayed put together as Aziraphale bit into it. 

He took a small lick of the whipped cream. Crowley’s breath hitched, and his stomach clenched. 

It left a sugary residue on his tongue. It was nowhere near as good as the whipped topping all of Aziraphale’s favorite restaurants prepared. Those toppings had sturdy peaks and were full. This topping smeared all over the place and was too watery to properly pick up. 

But Aziraphale couldn’t deny that it was nice to drag his tongue over Crowley’s torso. Under the sweetness, Aziraphale could feel how warm Crowley’s body was and could smell the shower gel he had used only a couple of hours before when Aziraphale was cooking supper. It was masculine today. He smelled of sandalwood and there was definitely a touch of cologne there as well. Aziraphale imagined him leaving the shower and dabbing his favorite scent on his pulse points and even a little right above his waistband. 

The whipped topping dribbled over the sides of Crowley’s stomach. Aziraphale caught a trail before it hit the mattress, the very tip of his tongue ghosting over his waist. 

Crowley’s hand went for Aziraphale’s hair and pulled a fistful of white curls. _That_ was interesting, Aziraphale thought as a moan escaped him and his cock twitched. He’d have to take note of that. 

Aziraphale traced the whipped cream to Crowley’s chest and picked up the second macaroon. A few crumbs fell onto Crowley, and he knew he had made the right decision. While Crowley paid no attention to the mess and tipped his head back in ecstasy, Aziraphale would have been itching to brush it off. 

And the macaroon was _splendid._ It was such a relief from the whipped cream. Aziraphale hummed as the flavors burst in his mouth with the first bite. 

He picked up the macaroon on Crowley’s neck, leaving behind a little kiss. Then, he bit the remaining one in half, pulling his portion away and allowing Crowley to eat the rest. 

Aziraphale fumbled for Crowley’s briefs and pulled them down with help. Together, they pulled out Crowley’s hard cock. 

“Goodness gracious,” Aziraphale said again. “Look at you.” 

Crowley smiled. “Look at _you_ , angel.” 

Aziraphale reached for the waistband of his own pants. He sported an impressive bulge that tented his boxers up. “Would you like to be… uh, well inside of me?” 

“ _Fuck_ , yes.” 

Aziraphale stripped, hands shaking and fingers fumbling the whole way and positioned himself above Crowley with his knees on either side of his narrow hips. They grabbed their lube from the bedside table, slathered a generous amount onto Crowley’s cock, and found Aziraphale’s hole. With a little difficulty that they were sure would lessen as time went on, Crowley slipped inside Aziraphale. 

“Oh no.” 

What he was expecting to feel euphoric was actually… _painful_. As if Crowley were too big for him. Too long. It burned almost, his muscles stretching more than they were prepared to.

“I don’t think I can…” Aziraphale pulled himself off with a wince. “I’m sorry.” 

“No, no, no. Don’t apologize. Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine! Maybe if we just found a different position.” 

Crowley grabbed Aziraphale and pulled him on top of him. They shared a sloppy kiss, Crowley dragging his lube-covered fingers through Aziraphale’s hair. 

“How about we do this?” Crowley rolled them onto their sides and grabbed Aziraphale’s cock, stroking it with his thumb. Aziraphale released a shaky breath. “Handjobs might be a good place for us to start.” 

Aziraphale couldn’t speak. His breath was caught in his throat. He nodded feverishly. 

He ran his finger over Crowley’s head and down the shaft. He wrapped his hand around it, perhaps a bit too lightly, and began stroking up and down. 

Crowley copied his movements, and it felt _wonderful_. Aziraphale had never known that that feeling could exist. Every nerve ending was sensitive. His cock was tingly and tight and hard. Almost like it was pulsing. 

He rocked his hips forward and backward with Crowley’s motions that best that he could.

“Go up a bit, angel,” Crowley panted. “A bit higher.” 

Aziraphale moved his hand towards Crowley’s head. It must have felt nice, for Crowley’s fingernails dug into Aziraphale’s hips. 

“I think I’m close,” Crowley said. 

Aziraphale could also feel a sensation of anticipation. Something was building up, but he didn’t know how close he was to climaxing. Surely, he would know when he got there. 

“ _Fuck.”_

Crowley came. 

Cum covered Aziraphale’s hand and spilled onto the sheets and Aziraphale’s shirt. 

There was a moment where Crowley lost his grip on Aziraphale in his own bliss. Aziraphale grabbed his hand and began stroking himself until Crowley took the hint and continued. 

There was a greater feeling of anticipation. Something was building up _for sure_ . It was a pressure. Almost painful. Almost… like he had to urinate. It would be terribly embarrassing to have that accident then, and perhaps he shouldn’t have had two glasses of wine and a cup of coffee with supper. He thought about excusing himself for a moment when he realized that he most certainly was _not_ going to urinate. 

“Fuck, Crowley. _Fuck.”_

It was a physical relief. His cock was no longer hard, no longer swollen and tight. But it was still sensitive. Every inch of him felt sensitive, really. Sweat all over him was cooling and drying, his shirt stuck to him, and the blood that rushed into his cheeks was beginning to circulate elsewhere again.

Crowley brushed Aziraphale’s hair back with his clean hand. He looked beautiful. His hair was a mess, falling into his flushed face. His pupils took up nearly the entire iris and even his irises looked as though they had crept into the whites. It was less snak-ish and more cat-ish. Aziraphale wanted that look to last forever. 

But then Crowley said, “We should probably clean up.” 

Aziraphale knew that he was right. Things shouldn’t be left messy too long. 

“Miracle or by hand?” 

Crowley hummed. He looked down at their mess and grimaced. “Let’s use a miracle.” 

He waved his hand and new sheets appeared. The two of them were totally cleaned up as well, free from all crumbs and fluids, and in their preferred pajamas. Some day, Aziraphale would like to do it by hand. To take a cool shower with Crowley and lay fresh bedclothes down together. But for now, he was quite pleased with being able to curl up with Crowley against the headboard. 

Crowley grabbed the box of macaroons and laid them on his lap. He handed one to Aziraphale and began nibbling on one himself. 

“We _must_ order from this bakery again,” Aziraphale said, wiggling happily as he was finally able to savor the taste. 

“‘M glad they did their job well,” Crowley said around his macaroon. 

“Oh! That does remind me.” Aziraphale dove onto his side and rifled through his nightstand drawer for a journal and pen. “I made a ranking system for us. It’s a few simple questions.” 

He opened the journal to a page half-filled with an entirely new list. From the back, the original list of kinks fell out. 

“Alright,” Aziraphale said, clicking his pen. “The first question is, on a scale of 1-5, how much did we enjoy the kink we used tonight?” 

“Jesus, angel.” The blush on Crowley’s cheeks was creeping back up. 

“I personally would put it at a four for now. Simple because we don’t have much reference for what other things feel like. There could be something worthy of a five. What do you think? Oh, and do you have anything to say about the food we used?” 

Aziraphale began writing in his gloriously neat handwriting. 

_Food Play, 23 July_

_Used: macaroons and aerosol whipped topping. Enjoyed._

_Az. rating: 4 out of 5_

_Crow. rating:_

Aziraphale turned to Crowley with a smile. Crowley picked at the box in his lap. 

“Put me down for a four,” he finally said. 

“Do you have anything else we should make note of?” 

Crowley was silent for a few moments. Then, he mumbled under his breath. 

“What was that, dear?” 

“I said, ‘change it to a five.’ I think I liked it more than you.” 

“Oh! I’m glad that you have such strong feelings!” 

_Crow. rating: 5 out of 5._

_Add. notes: pleased Crow. a great deal! Must try again._

“Thank you for humoring me,” Aziraphale said, closing the journal. “I think it’s important that we record how we feel about all of this.” 

“I don’t think we’re likely to forget any time soon.” 

“You never know.” 

Aziraphale returned to Crowley’s side and snuggled in close. Together, they arranged themselves so they were nearly laying down. Crowley handed him the final macaroon and laid the box on his nightstand.

“Thank you for tonight,” he said. 

Crowley had begun the process of wrapping around him like a snake, one leg over Aziraphale’s lap and his arms wrapping around the angel’s torso. He was like a weighted blanket. Very relaxing if a bit constricting at times. 

“You don’t have to thank me, angel,” Crowley said, nestling his head against Aziraphale’s shoulder and laying a hand on his chest. “We wanted to do it together.” 

“It feels right to thank you. I know I’ve made you wait so long before I returned any of your feelings, and—”

“Angel,” Crowley hissed. “I’d wait another 6,000 years if it meant we could do tonight again.”

“6,000 years won’t do.” Aziraphale smiled and closed his eyes. “How about tomorrow?”

“ _Tomorrow?”_

Aziraphale snapped, and the lamps turned off, leaving the room in darkness and the couple to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, this chapter may be the most explicit of the whole fic. So, if you didn't like some of the details, then maybe check back next chapter for something more tame. 
> 
> I would love to know if people enjoyed this! Were there parts that were awkward? Too vague? Too many details? Not enough emotion? Let me know in the comments! I'm already thrilled by the reaction the first chapter got!


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